


Abstinence

by parsleylion



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 15:56:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12302553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parsleylion/pseuds/parsleylion
Summary: Brad's addicted to sex and Chester's taken a vow of sexual abstinence...





	Abstinence

Brad doesn’t  _get_  it. He doesn’t  _understand_. And as he stands in front of the full length mirror in his closet and buttons up his waistcoat he asks how on earth Chester can  _not_  want to fuck his brains out. Brad, he thinks about sex from the moment he opens his eyes to the moment he closes them again approximately twelve hours later.

  
  


Brad beats off in bed when he’s put his alarm on snooze; beats off in the shower and sometimes after breakfast before he heads off to work. Without fail he has a crafty wank around noon in the bathrooms at work during his lunch break and normally jerks off again on the couch whilst watching the evening news. Sometimes his flatmate Mike is there, sometimes his only company is the Italian guy who reads the weather forecast.

  
  


The point being, Brad thinks as he runs a hand through his hair, how can Chester not only not want to sleep with him but how can he abstain from even touching himself? How can he not want to take part in any sexual activity whatsoever?

  
  


Why would anyone take a vow of sexual abstinence?

  
  


It makes Brad’s head hurt.

  
  


+

  
  


“I think it’s sweet.”

  
  


“Sweet?”

  
  


“Yeah.”

  
  


Today’s one of the days where Mike is sprawled out next to Brad as he beats off to Alonzo who this evening is wearing a rather tight, black shirt and pants combo as he explains that tomorrow’s weather will be hot and wet.

  
  


“How is not letting yourself orgasm ‘sweet’?” Brad asks, wiping his sticky hand on a tissue.

  
  


Mike shrugs and takes a sip from his glass of wine.

  
  


“See?” Brad sighs as he zips his pants up, “You can’t even tell me. Therefore you can’t actually think it’s sweet.”

  
  


Mike rolls his eyes, “So he doesn’t want to have sex,” He shrugs, “Big deal.”

  
  


“It IS a big deal though Mike. I mean, how can you not touch yourself? How can you not…”

  
  


“Believe it or not Brad, there is more to life than sex.”

  
  


“Oh yeah, that’s right. I forgot, I’m talking to a guy who hasn’t got laid since,” Brad pauses, “Last night?”

  
  


“That’s not the point.”

  
  


“It is! How can you stick up for him? He’s, he’s crazy!”

  
  


“So end things,” Mike shrugs, sipping more of his wine, “And for God’s sake clean yourself up properly. Dave will be over in a bit and I really don’t think he wants to see your jizz all over the place…”

  
  


Mike gets up and walks into the kitchen, leaving Brad to throw the box of Kleenex in the direction of the door. Brad doesn’t want to end things with Chester. He likes him way too much. And that, he thinks, that makes everything so fucking hard.

  
  


And for once, not just in a sexual manner.

  
  


+

  
  


“Hey.”

  
  


“Hey yourself.”

  
  


Brad smiles. Chester smiles. They lean forward and kiss and to everyone else they are the perfect couple. Everyone except Brad, that is.

  
  


Brad sighs as Chester leans his head on his shoulder and wraps his fingers around his. For a few moments neither of them speak and Brad watches Chester out of the corner his eye. Brad wouldn’t ever admit this to anyone but he secretly loves sitting here with Chester on the jetty, watching seagulls bob up and down on the water. Hell, he’d even gladly wait and watch the sunset. But he’d never, ever tell anyone that.

  
  


“Brad?”

  
  


“Yeah?”

  
  


Chester stares long and hard at Brad and it’s not until his gaze shifts downward that Brad realises his hand has found itself resting at the top of Chester’s thigh.

  
  


“Sorry,” Brad blushes, thinking this is possibly the first time a guy has made his cheeks redden from embarrassment.

  
  


“It’s okay,” Chester shrugs.

  
  


It’s not, Brad thinks as he sits on his hands and gazes out toward the sea. He wants to lay Chester out right here and fuck him until he can’t breathe and honestly, that’s really the most inappropriate thing to be thinking about, god he knows that.

  
  


“You okay?” Chester murmurs beside him.

  
  


Brad gazes back and smiles, “Yeah, fine,” He nods.

  
  


Chester raises his eyebrows. Obviously not buying that lie then, Brad thinks to himself.

  
  


“Okay,” Brad clears his throat, “I just.. I really want to,” He pauses, “Y’know…”

  
  


Chester shakes his head, “No?”

  
  


“Y’know,” Brad smiles.

  
  


“No,” Chester frowns, “I don’t…”

  
  


“I want to, ehm, touch you up…”

  
  


Chester’s eyes widen, “You want to…”

  
  


“No, no, no, that came out completely wrong. I don’t want to touch you up, well I do, but not in the style of a pervert, y’know. I just, I find it really hard. No wait, that’s the wrong word. Shit I…”

  
  


“It’s okay.”

  
  


“It is?”

  
  


Chester sighs, brushes his fingers against Brad’s cheeks, “Let’s go for a walk.”

  
  


Brad blinks, “Sure,” He nods.

  
  


And that’s it. They get up and walk out toward the sea and all the while Brad keeps his hands shoved firmly in his pockets and walks right beside Chester; not behind like normal because if he walked behind he’d not be able to take his eyes off of Chester’s ass.

  
  
  


+

  
  


“Shit.. There right there. Oh God yes, that’s it…”

  
  


“Like that?”

  
  


“Yes.. Yes like that, fuck, fuck, fuck…”

  
  


Brad closes his eyes and wonders when he’ll be able to afford to live in a place with thicker walls. It’s been two days since he last saw Chester. Two days of feeling strangely nauseated and he thinks to himself, is this what  _really_  liking someone does to you? It’s not helped by the fact that it’s four am and Mike and Dave are fucking for the fifth time that night.

  
  


Well, Brad thinks to himself , if you can’t beat them fucking well join them.

  
  


So he slides his hand down under the covers, slips a finger into his boxers and bites his bottom lip as the sound of Mike’s creaking bed permeates his ears. He wraps his hand around his cock and begins to stroke it, his spare hand grabbing clumps of the pillow behind his head.

  
  


He drifts away and imagines that Chester’s lying beside him, his hot breath hitting his ear. He’s wrapping his hand around Brad’s cock and sliding it up and down and his fingers are dancing along his spine. He arches his back, bends his legs and wriggles free from his shorts.

  
  


“Fuck.. Harder.. God Dave go fucking harder…”

  
  


Brad croaks out something incoherent as he begins to tighten his grip and move his hand faster in time with the thudding coming from Mike’s room. He can feel Chester’s lips wrapping around his erection, feel his fingertips digging into the skin on his hips and can taste blood in his mouth.

  
  


“Oh God.. I’m there, I’m gonna… fuck, fuck…”

  
  


Mike’s voice rings around Brad’s ears and he snaps his eyes open, suddenly feeling deliciously dirty as his entire body begins to shake. He can’t stop himself though and comes everywhere, his heart suddenly racing as he gulps down mouthfuls of air and lazily wipes his sticky hand across his stomach.

  
  
  


+

  
  
  


It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon and Brad walks through the cemetery to get to Chester’s apartment. Leaves crunch beneath his feet and he glances in envy at every couple that stroll by hand in hand. He bets they’re going home to have rampant sex on expensive rugs in front of burning fireplaces. Just the sheer thought of Chester lying naked on a mock sheepskin rug sends seismic waves to Brad’s crotch so he has to do a detour to the children’s graves. That soon gets rid of his painful boner.

  
  


So he’s about five minutes late when he arrives at Chester’s place and hopes that he doesn’t get asked why as he knocks at the door. He can think of a thousand excuses but non of them would make it out of his lips without him stumbling and having a ten foot tall image of Chester masturbating in front of a fireplace flash square between his eyes.

  
  


“Hey,” Chester smiles as he opens the door, “Sorry, I just got out of the shower, I slept through my alarm and… Are you okay?!”

  
  


Brad clamps his mouth shut. Apparently it fell open the moment he was greeted by Chester, dripping wet and  _holding_ a towel in front of him. It’s pressed against his stomach and hanging down and Brad suddenly realises he’s still staring, probably the way a dog would stare at a steak. Not a good look, then.

  
  


“Yeah, yeah, fine,” Brad finally manages to utter.

  
  


“Come in then,” Chester smiles, “You probably arrived just on time. I need your help.”

  
  


Brad almost trips over the doormat as Chester stands aside, towel still gripped firmly against his body. Brad takes a deep breath in the few moments it takes Chester to shut the door and then he very almost drops to the floor when Chester turns to the stairs.

  
  


“Follow me,” He smiles.

  
  


Brad gulps. Chester still has the towel pressed against his front; but his ass is on clear view and as he starts to climb the stairs Brad’s eyes get wider and wider until he’s sure that there is a fucking six-man tent going on in his trousers. He tugs his shirt down and follows Chester up the stairs, his eyes trying to focus on the intricate weave of tattoos that dance across his back and not his ass.

  
  


Not his ass. Not his ass. And certainly not the tip of his cock which he can see clear as day every fucking time he climbs a step.

  
  


“You sure you’re okay?” Chester glances across his shoulder as he walks toward his bedroom, “You seem out of breath?”

  
  


“I’m fine, totally fine,” Brad pauses at the top of the stairs in attempts to compose himself.

  
  


“So, I was thinking, let’s go out for a meal, I realised I haven’t taken you anywhere yet…”

  
  


Brad walks across to Chester’s bedroom, stepping inside the candle lit room and hearing snippets of Chester’s words. He wants him to help him choose some clothes, most of which are sprawled out across his king-size bed, which Brad gingerly sits down on when prompted to do so. Brad tries not to bounce up and down, but ends up doing it discreetly anyway when Chester disappears into his closet and Brad has to wonder why anyone would have a bed this fucking springy if they don’t do sex.

  
  


When Chester comes back out with the towel wrapped around his waist Brad suddenly feels hot. He’s not sure if it’s the candles that are making his cheeks burn or that tiny treasure trail that starts just below the ring in Chester’s navel. Brad grips onto the edge of the bed as Chester starts to hold up clothes and talk incessantly about them.

  
  


He lasts about ten minutes before he has to excuse himself to go to the bathroom.

  
  


He locks the door and turns the faucets on at the sink. He beats off and comes so hard that he has to ram his fist into his mouth to stop himself from screaming the entire house down.

  
  


+

  
  
  


Brad met Chester at college. He goes there two days a week to learn to read and write properly because Brad dropped out of Junior High and said fuck you to his education and wasted his youth away playing computer games, hacking websites and smoking pot. It’s only thanks to Mike saving him and begging his father to employ him in the offices at his stationary company that he has a job. And it’s also thanks to Mike that he met Chester because Mike bullied him into taking classes because despite his sarcastic exterior Mike is an extremely caring person who thinks Brad is worth more than filing and answering phones.

  
  


Chester is a guidance counsellor at the college three days a week, the rest of the time he spends painting and selling his artwork at local galleries. Brad’s not sure if it was the pale and interesting aura that drew him to Chester or the cute ass or the huge smile or the way Chester spoke to Brad when they bumped into each other down a darkened corridor one evening.

  
  


This does have a point. And that point, Brad thinks to himself is that Mike Shinoda is entirely to blame for the burning erection he has right now. Because if Mike hadn’t had forced him to take classes then he wouldn’t have met Chester and if he hadn’t had met Chester he wouldn’t be lying face down on his king size bed right now.

  
  


Yes, three months into their relationship and Chester has just now decided to tell Brad he is a fully trained masseur. That would be the reason Brad is naked and covered in beads of sweat because Chester is straddling his back and massaging the hell out of his apparently knotted shoulders.

  
  


“How’s that?”

  
  


Brad nods. He hopes this conveys that this feels fucking amazing. He can’t speak because if he opens his mouth he’s afraid he’ll let out the dirtiest of moans, one worthy of being on a hard porn movie. He also has to keep his eyes shut. There’s a mirror right beside his face, one which when he last glanced into showered him with the image of Chester kneeling between his thighs with his hands on his hips. It almost caused Brad to spill his load all over the place.

  
  


“All done,” Chester whispers, causing Brad to jump a little because his voice is filled with innocence and it’s also right in his fucking ear.

  
  


Brad shivers at the way Chester’s breath hits the back of his ear. His hands claw at the bed covers and he swears that Chester’s lips graze against the small of his neck only when he opens his eyes Chester is getting up and rubbing his hands together and Brad scrutinizes his body for any sign of an erection and he can’t fucking grasp it but there is nothing showing through Chester’s tight pants.

  
  


“I’ll go and get that wine I’ve been chilling,” Chester smiles, “Be back in a minute.”

  
  


Brad’s in so much pain. His groin is burning and once he’s heard Chester’s footsteps fading down the stairs he jumps up and hotfoots it to the bathroom. He doesn’t have chance to think how this is becoming a regular occurrence as he locks the door, turns on the faucets and wraps his hand around his cock. In his mind Chester is on his knees, gripping him by the waist and pinning him to the door. His mouth his working up and down Brad’s cock as he thrusts into him.

  
  


Brad shoots his load everywhere and wonders if Chester even knows what spunk looks like anymore. He hopes not because even after he’s finished wiping splashes of it away from the floor and has crept back into the bedroom he’s not entirely sure that he didn’t miss some of it.

  
  
  


+

  
  
  


“Chester?”

  
  


“Yeah?”

  
  


“How do you do it?”

  
  


Chester blows cigarette smoke through his lips and tilts his head, “Do what?” He asks.

  
  


Brad’s not entirely sure Taco Bell is the best place to be discussing this so he lowers his voice, aware of the yummy mummies who sit nearby with their children in designer togs.

  
  


“Go without beating off.”

  
  


Chester almost chokes on his burrito and Brad has to hold back a snigger. All this time it’s him that’s been choking and feeling embarrassed. He rather likes it that the boot is on the other foot. Yet at the same time he feels bad for prying into Chester’s lifestyle. He can’t explain it but Chester has turned him from loudmouthed and blunt to cautious and dare Brad say it, caring?

  
  


Chester shrugs, “I just don’t feel the need.”

  
  


“So what, nothing turns you on?” Brad leans across the table with a frown.

  
  


“Define being turned on?”

  
  


“Well, y’know, that feeling you get in your groin where you want to fuck someone’s brains out…”

  
  


Chester stares, eyes wide.

  
  


“Sorry,” Brad mumbles, “I…”

  
  


“No, it’s okay,” Chester nods, “I, I guess I don’t get those feelings. And if I ever do, well, they’re amazingly easy to control.”

  
  


“So, have you ever, like, beaten off, ever?”

  
  


“Sure I have when I was in my teens.”

  
  


Brad’s heart does a celebratory dance. He pauses to save a mental image of teenage Chester jerking off for later use.

  
  


“But,” Brad frowns, “Why do you not want to have sex?”

  
  


It’s not as if they’ve not had this conversation before but this is possibly the first time Brad’s been brave enough to ask this direct question. Chester takes a sip of the Pepsi they are sharing through the straw and shrugs.

  
  


“It’s never interested me. I never really got into touching myself when I was younger. To be honest I didn’t enjoy it and I’ve, I can’t explain, I’ve just not got any desire to have sex. It‘s not abnormal.”

  
  


“Oh no, no,” Brad shakes his head, “I didn’t mean that it was. I just,” He scrunches a napkin between his hands, trying to pick out the words carefully, “Do you… Do you find me attractive?” He winces as the lamest words ever fall from his mouth.

  
  


“What?!” Chester laughs, “Of course I do! I think you’re fucking gorgeous!”

  
  


“Then… Why can’t you want to do anything intimate with me?”

  
  


Chester’s smile fades and he puts down the cup of Pepsi, “Brad I really, really like you. You’re,” He pauses, “You mean the world to me… “

  
  


“Yeah but,” Brad flicks his napkin across the table, narrowly missing an old lady in the queue.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“I want to fuck your brains out,” Brad whispers, “I want to touch you and feel you and do some really unmentionable things to you…”

  
  


“…”

  
  


“And I want to spend the rest of my fucking life with you but…”

  
  


“But…?”

  
  


“What’s the point! What’s the point if you won’t even let me touch you and show you how much I…”

  
  


Chester gets up at that point, “There’s more to life than sex Brad,” He shouts, “And if you can’t envision spending the rest of your life with me because I won’t let you fuck me up the ass then I’m sorry we ever fucking met,” He spits.

  
  


Brad’s suddenly aware of the silence around him, a silence only shattered by Chester storming away and the automatic doors whizzing open as he reaches them.

  
  


The whole of Taco Bell is staring at him, mouths agape, some even moulded into smirks. Brad can’t move. Not because he’s in shock. Not because of the fifty pairs of eyes which are staring at him and not because he wants the ground to swallow him whole.

  
  


He can’t move because of the huge boner in his pants, one caused by the way Chester raised his voice at him. He knows it’s awful because he’s just opened his mouth and said some pretty shitty things to his boyfriend but he just can’t help himself.

  
  
  


+

  
  
  


“You said what?”

  
  


“I know, I know…”

  
  


“Brad Delson that is fucking low. How could you say that? How could you even think it? A relationship isn’t based purely on sex for fuck’s sake! It’s about love and trust and friendship and most importantly, understanding. If he never wants to talk to you again then don’t you fucking dare come running to me!”

  
  


Brad has slammed his bedroom door by the time Mike has finished shouting him down. He flops down on his bed and grabs his cell phone. He can’t call Chester though. He doesn’t have the courage. He opts for staring at the screen of his phone instead, willing it to ring. But even Brad knows that Chester shouldn’t be the one calling him.

  
  


He must fall asleep at some point because he’s suddenly jerked awake and blearily stares around his now pitch black bedroom. He reaches blindly for his phone, squinting when he hits the menu key and is temporarily blinded by the blue light which flashes back. It’s almost midnight and Chester hasn’t called. Brad feels a pain in his bladder, drops his phone onto the bed and creeps out into the hallway, across to the bathroom.

  
  


He’s walking back from the bathroom when he hears a moan coming from Mike’s room. Strange, he thinks to himself, as he swears Dave is away on a business trip. He slows down and stops outside, peering through the door which is slightly ajar. He suddenly has to slam his hand over his mouth as he gets an eyeful of his best friend naked in the middle of his bed with a hand around his cock.

  
  


Something twitches down below for Brad and he has to steady himself with his free hand against the door frame. He bites his bottom lip as Mike arches his back and pumps his erection; his free hand clutching at the bed sheets.

  
  


Brad thinks of how it’s ages since he and Mike got one another off and leans forward, swallowing hard as Mike’s eyes flutter open.

  
  


“Fuck Brad… What are you…”

  
  


Brad slides between the gap in the door and tiptoes over to Mike’s bed. Mike’s hand has stopped moving and Brad hesitates for a second before climbing onto the bed and sliding down beside Mike. Their eyes lock straight away. Mike doesn’t say anything at first, he just gulps and shivers when Brad places his hand on top of Mike’s and begins to gently move it again.

  
  


“Brad,” Mike croaks, “Stop it.”

  
  


Brad sighs and his movements cease but he doesn’t take his hand away.

  
  


“It’s been four months,” Brad suddenly gushes, “Four months without sex.”

  
  


“Brad I can’t do this…”

  
  


“Please Mike,” Brad utters, sliding his hand across the older man’s stomach, “I feel like I’m not wanted anymore,” He whispers, leaning closer and flicking his tongue against Mike’s neck, “I’m going to go fucking crazy if I don’t have sex…”

  
  


Mike places his free hand against Brad’s and snakes their fingers together.

  
  


“Go back to bed Brad.”

  
  


“I can’t!” Brad whines, “Mike it fucking hurts. I can’t go any longer. Please just, just help me out here,” He croaks, “I’d do the same for you.”

  
  


Mike smiles and shakes his head, “Brad go and get some sleep.”

  
  


“No.”

  
  


“Brad…”

  
  


Brad trails kisses down Mike’s neck; grazes his lips against his Adams apple and flicks his tongue out when he reaches his nipples.

  
  


“Fuck Brad,” Mike breathes out, “Stop.”

  
  


Brad ignores him, tightens his grip on his hands and trails his tongue down his chest; over his ribs and into the tiny crevice of his belly button.

  
  


“Brad I’m fucking serious now,” Mike hisses, “Get off me.”

  
  


Brad can’t stop though. Mike feels so delicious and Brad looses his grip of Mike’s hands and glides them up to his shoulders, holding him down as he climbs on top of his friend.

  
  


“Fuck Brad!” Mike shouts, “Fucking stop it…”

  
  


Brad smiles and sits up.

  
  


“You want me to stop?”

  
  


“Yes,” Mike nods, “God! Not everything revolves around sex for Christ’s sake! I wish you’d see that!”

  
  


“Oh, I see it!” Brad laughs, “I fucking see it and you’re right, you’re totally right. But I have had enough of it Mike. I need to fuck…”

  
  


“Brad…”

  
  


“I think I’ve done pretty well y’know. And call me a hypocrite, a contradiction to myself or whatever but I understand there is more to love than sex but I literally cannot take anymore and I know for a fact that you’d be no better than me if you tried to give up fucking…”

  
  


Mike sighs, “Okay. You’ve got me on that one…”

  
  


Brad smirks, “So, you still want me to stop, rather than slide my cock inside you and fuck the living daylights out of you? You’d rather I left you to give yourself a crumby hand job than feel me coming inside you?”

  
  


Mike shivers and Brad leans down again, nipping at his earlobe.

  
  


“I’ll go if you want,” He pauses, “But hear me out Mike. I’ve not gotten laid for four whole months now. I’ve not felt anyone tighten themselves around me and beg for me to go harder. I’ve not fingered anyone or have them call my name or drag fingernails down my back or spill their load all over me. You used to do that for me…”

  
  


Mike growls and pushes Brad off him, flipping him onto his back and pinning him down against the crumpled bed sheets.

  
  


“This stays between you and me,” Mike whispers, “And I’m the one doing the fucking.”

  
  


It lasts all of five minutes; rolling around on the bed, kissing and stroking and biting and moaning. Brad almost loses it the moment Mike wraps a KY coated hand around his cock and positions himself between Brad’s legs.

  
  


Brad’s hands wrap around the headboard and he arches his back in time with Mike’s thrusts and closes his eyes and can barely breathe throughout it all. Mike’s hands don’t leave a single inch of his body untouched and they finally come to rest on his hips as he whispers something about Brad opening his eyes.

  
  


“Promise me one thing,” Mike whispers.

  
  


“Right now… I’ll promise you anything…”

  
  


“You go and apologise to Chester and you listen to what he has to say to you and you fucking well believe him when he tells you how much he cares for you…”

  
  


There’s a moment of confusion as Brad feels his body tightening around Mike. A moment of realisation as Mike begins to fuck him violently and a moment of utter pleasure as Brad feels his warm seed seeping inside him as his own spills out onto his stomach.

  
  


The sheets lie sticky and crumpled around them and Brad curls up in Mike’s arms, still gasping for breath and feeling shivers trickle down his spine.

  
  


“Do you believe in karma, Mike?”

  
  


Mike looks at Brad through sleepy eyes.

  
  


“Like, in people getting what they deserve.”

  
  


Mike slides down next to Brad and pulls the covers over them, “I guess,” He shrugs.

  
  


“Do you think I’m getting what I deserve right now, with Chester and everything? I mean do you think this is someone’s revenge for all those people I’ve screwed around with before? All the guys I’ve strung along and dumped? Finally I’m falling in love with someone and they won’t give me the one thing I’ve always got…”

  
  


Mike smirks.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


“Nothing,” He grins, “I guess you’ve learnt your lesson?”

  
  


“What’s that supposed to mean?

  
  


+

  
  
  


Brad scrutinises his reflection. Red shirt, black waistcoat, black pants and red converse. He scrunches up handfuls of his hair, checks his watch and straightens his tie. Then he finally grabs his keys and wallet and heads outside, not before checking his hair once more in the hallway mirror.

  
  


It’s chilly outside but the sun is shining and there’s not a cloud to be seen in the sky. Brad’s not sure if it’s this that adds the springy step to his walk or the fact that at nine am Chester called him and said he wanted to see him urgently.

  
  


Brad had thought he’d probably blown things with him after the Taco Bell incident but as he steps through the cemetery gates and follows the driveway which disappears in between trees and gravestones he has hope that things can be resolved.

  
  


He just has to apologise to Mike for being a bit forceful the previous night and then hopefully everything, he prays, will be sorted.

  
  


Chester answers the door with a bowl of cornflakes in his hand. He smiles and moves aside and Brad shrugs off his jacket before following him into the kitchen.

  
  


“I’m sorry,” Brad sighs before he’s even through the doorway, “I’ve acted a complete shit and I understand if you hate me right now because honestly, I pretty much hate me and I’m just confused about a lot of things and slowly realising I’m probably not the nicest person ever so if you hate me then I don’t blame you and…”

  
  


Chester’s placed his bowl down and suddenly slammed Brad against the door. Brad clamps his mouth shut and lets out a cry of surprise as Chester pins his arms above his head and presses his lips against his mouth.

  
  


The fire in Chester’s kiss burns Brad’s lips and he barely has chance to acknowledge the fact that there was a lot of tongue involved by the time Chester is speaking.

  
  


“Fuck. That’s something I should have done the moment I met you.”

  
  


Brad’s eyes widen.

  
  


“Fuck Brad. I am so, so sorry. This wasn’t meant to hurt you.. God, I,” Chester pauses, waving his arms in the air, “Mike is a lovely, lovely person but fuck, I wish I’d never listened to him.”

  
  


“Mike… What’s he got to do with anything.”

  
  


“Okay,” Chester pauses, pats himself down and pulls a carton of cigarettes out from his back pocket, “You have to promise not to hate me, okay?” He pauses again to light a cigarette up, “And can I just say that if you can’t forgive me then I totally understand. I, I never meant for it to mess you up or…”

  
  


“Chester?”

  
  


“I love fucking,” Chester sighs, “I love sex. I jerk off about four times a day, sometimes more.”

  
  


Brad stares. His eyes are wide. His mouth is open. He looks like he did the day Chester answered the door fresh from the shower.

  
  


“In fact, I’ve often wondered if I’m addicted to sex.”

  
  


“But…” Brad has to close his eyes for a second, “Okay,” He reopens them, “You… But… What about the chastity?”

  
  


“I lied.”

  
  


“…”

  
  


“Not so much a lie, more of an experiment.”

  
  


“An… an experiment?” Brad asks wearily, suddenly realising he has to sit down pronto.

  
  


“You remember the first night we went out?”

  
  


“Of course… We went out with Mike and Dave…”

  
  


“Yeah,” Chester nods, “Well you disappeared to the bathroom for ages. I was kind of worried. Then Dave made this joke that you were probably jerking off.”

  
  


Brad stares. It’s about all he’s capable of.

  
  


“And I joked if you were some kind of sex maniac like me. To which Dave said he had to warn me but you had a history of fucking guys for a few weeks then moving onto someone else. And that’s sort of when Mike came up with the idea…”

  
  


“The idea?”

  
  


“Yeah,” Chester blows smoke into the air and sits down on the table, “He said I should pretend I abstain from sex, see how long it was before you were begging one of us to blow you…”

  
  


Brad stares. He can’t quite shut his mouth yet either. It happens when he’s trying to process complex information.

  
  


“It sounds really fucking cruel,” Chester winces, “Brad? You okay?”

  
  


Brad slowly nods his head. His ego is severely bruised. He feels like some sex maniac. He feels like his friends have labelled him a complete cock muncher. Of course he’s okay. One thing suddenly makes sense though; why Mike gave in so easily and fucked him. Guilty conscience he figures, staring blankly at Chester’s worried expression.

  
  


“Mike called me this morning to say I should probably come clean. Apparently you went to him like some sex-deprived animal and were babbling on about how you felt you’d brought this all on yourself. He even thought you were close to tears…”

  
  


“What?!” Brad is suddenly snapped out of his shock, “I was not close to tears…”

  
  


“I am so sorry though Brad. It was just a bit of fun,” Chester leans back and flicks the butt of his cigarette into an ashtray, “I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with you.”

  
  


The room lapses into silence and Brad looks accusingly at Chester.

  
  


“What did you just say?” He finally whispers.

  
  


Chester fiddles with his lighter, “You heard,” He mumbles.

  
  


Brad feels as if he’s been hit by a truck. He doesn’t know why but he suddenly gets to his feet and walks out of the kitchen.

  
  


“Brad?! Fuck, Brad! Wait!”

  
  


He turns around as he reaches the door and stares sadly at Chester, “I just need to go and process this…”

  
  


“But I’m sorry, I never meant to humiliate you or…”

  
  


“Please Chester.”

  
  


Brad grabs his jacket and shuts the door on Chester. He makes it about halfway down the road before he turns back. He remembers something Mike said, something about him learning his lesson and Brad realises that today he’s going to learn another important lesson; swallowing his pride.

  
  


The walk back to Chester’s place seems to take ten times longer than it should. Brad bites his lip and knocks against the door which is swiftly answered by a red-eyed Chester.

  
  


“Oh God! I’m…”

  
  


“Shush,” Brad pushes him back inside and lets the door slam shut behind them.

  
  


“But…”

  
  


“Just promise me something,” Brad eyes Chester up, “Promise me this is the only lie you told. Promise me that everything else I know and love about you is true. Promise me you haven’t lied about anything else…”

  
  


“I promise.”

  
  


Chester stares back at Brad, and Brad, he can’t put his finger on it exactly but he guesses it’s the sincerity in Chester’s voice; in his expression that puts his mind at rest and causes him to lean into his boyfriend and press his forehead against Chester’s.

  
  


“You bastard,” Brad whispers with a smile, “You complete and utter bastard! I’ve been walking around with the biggest hard on since I met you!”

  
  


Chester laughs, his eyes creasing up as giggles escape from his lips, “I noticed.”

  
  


“Fucker.”

  
  


“Hey! What about me? I’ve had to go without sex for four whole months!”

  
  


“It’s pretty painful, isn’t it?”

  
  


Chester nods.

  
  


“You know something else that’s painful?”

  
  


“What?”

  
  


Brad leans closer, pushing Chester against the wall and pinning his hands above his head.

  
  


“Me fucking you raw.”

  
  


+

  
  


Brad doesn’t  _get_  it. He doesn’t  _understand_. Old Brad would have fucked Chester raw right there and then. Only he didn’t. No, they talked and laughed and sat on the couch and watched a bad film and Chester apologised several hundred times until Brad threatened to cut his dick off if he said ever sorry again.

  
  


And now a week has passed and Brad is standing outside Chester’s door, dressed to the nines and carrying a bottle of expensive wine. He has butterflies in his stomach and a packet of Trojan in his waistcoat pocket.

  
  


Tonight, he thinks to himself with a mixture of nerves and smugness, is  _the_  night.

  
  


“Hey.”

  
  


Brad blinks. He didn’t hear the door open, didn’t realise Chester was standing in front of him wearing nothing but a pair of boxer shorts.

  
  


“Hi,” Brad smiles, eyeing Chester up and down.

  
  


“Oh,” Chester shrugs, standing aside, “I figured I’d save us some time if I didn’t dress ,” He smirks and Brad rolls his eyes, brushes past Chester and kicks his shoes off in the hallway.

  
  


“Mmm, wine,” Chester grins, as he closes the door and leans back against it, “I hope you’re not planning on getting me drunk?”

  
  


Brad smiles. He suddenly realises that Chester is doing all the talking. This would have once made him uncomfortable, for Brad is renowned for having the gift of the gab. Somehow though, Brad thinks as Chester snakes his hand around his and pulls him up the stairs, with Chester it’s anything  _but_  uncomfortable.

  
  


They end up in Chester’s room, standing in the middle, the wine long forgotten on the nightstand as Chester pushes Brad in the direction of his bed. Brad’s mouth is dry and his heart is pounding and just as the backs of his knees hit the bed Chester lets go of him, steps back and slides his fingers into the waistband of his shorts.

  
  


Brad almost falls back as Chester’s eyes lock with his and he slides away his boxers, pushing them effortlessly down to his ankles and stepping out of them. Brad gulps, thinks how very fucking beautiful Chester Bennington actually is and finds himself biting his lip.

  
  


Chester just smiles, places his hands on his hips and tilts his head.

  
  


“You need to lose those fucking clothes,” He muses out loud and Brad, he’s all too happy to oblige.

  
  


“But leave the tie on,” Chester smiles, stepping forward and closing the gap, “I’ll need something to hold onto when you’re fucking me raw.”


End file.
